Lessons
by theoboefreak
Summary: Light SMc (slash). Things are forgotten as time goes on, but a little bit of tutoring can solve that...


_**Lessons**_

Fandom: Star Trek

Rating: PG

Pairing: implied Spock/McCoy

Warnings: "damn" said a few times and, of course, the implication of slash

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, nor will it ever be.

A/N: …Hi. I'm new to the Star Trek fandom. This is my third attempt at a fic. All criticisms, comments, and flames are welcome. Knock yourself out.

His hands rest against the keys and his eyes are closed, obviously deep in concentration. The keys have a fine grain, reminding him of the feel of real wood, of the kitchen table that his mother used to make lunch for him on. That nice, earthy feeling that reminds him so much of home. He rubs his fingers gently against the wood. Slowly, his thumb on his right hand presses against one of the keys.

As he plays, his forehead creases. He's not playing it correctly anymore. He backs up and tries again. "No…" he mumbles. "I can't seem to get it." Over and over again he fumbles with the notes, cringing. Finally, he exhales a long sigh of frustration. "I give up! I can't do it!" He puts a hand over his eyes and sighs, trying his best to regain his composure. He shouldn't be this deeply affected by just trying to play the piano…

After a brief inward lament, a twin hand pulls his away. He opens his eyes slightly and recognizes the hand immediately. The hand places his own back on the keys and arches, poised to play. He notes that his other hand is also under another hand, the other of the person behind him. "You need not fret," an unusually quiet voice utters against the back of his neck. "All you need is a bit of tutoring." Shuddering, he feels himself being stood up and gently sat down again, this time upon a warm lap. Absently, he wonders how the other figure managed to sit down.

"I have not played the piano in months, Doctor," the voice whispers into his ear, "but I am sure I can help you."

McCoy chuckles. "Damn, that's better than years, Spock."

He can feel the eyebrow being raised. The eyebrow. That eyebrow that rises when Spock tries to suppress his human emotions. "I would appreciate it if you helped me," McCoy says finally, relenting to Spock's apparent lack of emotion and understanding.

Spock's chest presses against McCoy's back as his hands start to move, spindled fingers joining with the keys. McCoy watches as Spock manipulates his hands to move, playing a soft and placid melody he has never heard before. He notes the dramatic pauses and crescendos Spock uses, trying to memorize the song. No. To _learn_ the song.

The music slowly rises to forte, switching to an anguished D minor. McCoy can feel Spock's breathing against his ear hitch a few times as his fingers sink into the keys, chords echoing slowly, dimming to nothing.

McCoy closes his eyes to focus on the sound. The way the fingers are placed doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is the emotion that Spock is expressing and the memories he associates with a piano. 

The music stops, but McCoy doesn't realize the song is over. He hears Spock's slightly sporadic breathing against his neck ease, and he rests his chin against McCoy's shoulder. McCoy feels Spock's hand twitch over his own, as if wanting to do something, but Spock, as if realizing his error, pulls his hand away.

"That was a lovely song, Mr. Spock," McCoy says, breaking the long silence between them. Quietly, Spock murmurs his agreement. He raises his head and sighs very softly.

McCoy ponders something for a moment as Spock regains himself. That was very unusual. Spock _never_ expresses his emotions, and he just poured himself out for McCoy to see. He seemed to do so, anyway. The way he played was not straining; there must have been something else going on within him that caused him to breathe the way he did. That music…

"Do you ever get lonely?" McCoy isn't sure at whom he's aiming the question.

Spock tenses slightly and sits up straight, pulling away completely from McCoy. "Loneliness is a human emotion," he says blankly in his regular, monotone voice.

"You're half-human, Spock. Don't tell me that you're void of human emotion."

"As I have told you exactly 1136 times, I am a Vulcan." Stiffness has added to his tone. "Although you may believe I have emotion, my logic outweighs any speck of emotion I might possess."

McCoy clenches one of his fists. "Spock, y' definitely have emotion." His Southern drawl sinks into his words. "You're just so damn proud of your Vulcan heritage to realize it!" He turns around to glare at Spock.

Spock simply raises an eyebrow. "Being overly-emotional does not prove anything, Doctor." McCoy would say that he looks somewhat amused.

"What was that song about, then?" McCoy folds his arms and raises his own eyebrow.

Spock stares McCoy in the eye for a moment, and then turns away. "I played that piece the way I did because I was trying to imitate the way humans do play the piano. My mother taught me how to play that song, and that's the only way I can play it correctly. It is only logical." He pauses. McCoy raises an eyebrow and tries to find any emotion within Spock, and Spock turns and returns McCoy's questioning gaze. "I am not lonely, Doctor." McCoy rolls his eyes and mentally sighs. He moves to stand up, but Spock stops him. He pulls McCoy back to the position they were in earlier. "I wasn't finished with my lesson." McCoy gives him a sceptical look, but Spock ignores it. "It would be logical if we ended it with a song that you're familiar with."

McCoy mumbles something about Spock's "damn logic" and places his hands on the piano. However, no sooner has McCoy put down his hands does Spock wave them away and puts down his own left hand. "I am very sure you've played this song before. I'll start with the base line and you can join in on the melody."

"Okay, Spock," McCoy responds with a hint of frustration and slides off his lap. "I'll play your game."

Spock turns to McCoy and raises an eyebrow as he starts playing a bouncing tune, very familiar to McCoy. Too familiar. McCoy's eyes widen when he hears it, memories of his childhood by the piano flooding his senses. He gulps, trying to get a grip. He places his right hand on the keys and plays a gentle, smiling melody. "This is very nostalgic," he mumbles to himself, not sure whether he should feel euphoric or depressed. He repeats the tune again.

"I'm not sure of the song's name," Spock mentions innocently. Almost too innocently, McCoy thinks. But, he said he'd play by Spock's rules. Spock is his tutor. He chuckles and waits for the next repeat and sings.

_"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you  
Heart and soul, the way a fool would do  
Gladly…"_

**FIN**


End file.
